


i fell like a fucking flower

by poetroe



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catadora, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Catra (She-Ra)-centric, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Post-Season/Series 01, Redemption, adora is protective, bow is my sugary sweet son, catra deserves to be happy, catra is really hungry give that poor cat some snacks, catradora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 09:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetroe/pseuds/poetroe
Summary: Adora steps forwards, into Catra’s space, and grabs her by the collar.“What are you doing here?” she demands. Catra silently wishes she was still asleep. “What do you want? Is this another ploy of you to distract me while the Horde attacks?” Catra huffs out a laugh.“I wish,” she answers, sincerely. “No, I just got lost in the woods like a dumbass, and then Bow found me.”After the battle of Bright Moon, Catra gets lost in the woods. A S1 fix-it of sorts.





	i fell like a fucking flower

**Author's Note:**

> today I opened my laptop fully intending to write a 1000 word essay for school, instead this monster of a fic came out lmao. written in one sitting and not beta-read so fingers crossed I spotted all the mistakes. I guess I just really needed to write an alternate ending to season one where Catra and Adora can be cute and gay together again. there's probably a hundred fics like this one out there already, regardless I hope y'all have a good time reading this and please leave a comment or a kudo because those make my day!!!
> 
> also the title comes from the similarly titled song by kinski, which I listened to a lot while writing this, def go check that song out it's amazing

Honestly, they had been doing just fine until all of the other princesses showed up. Catra grumbles, crossing her arms just a little more tightly across her chest while the wind keeps whipping against her face. The skiff that Scorpia’s currently directing through the rapidly thawing Whispering Woods is the one piece of their machinery that managed to survive the battle of Bright Moon. Well, maybe that’s putting it lightly. Several panels are hanging loose off the side of the ship, and the rudder is busted so severely that Scorpia has to steer a little to the right at all times, in order to maintain a straight course.

They’re surrounded by thick trees, overgrown with vines and ivy, and firm bushes. Creating a path through this dense forest is getting harder the further they progress, a process that’s being made even harder by the thaw. After some time they reach a clearing, and Scorpia stops the skiff.

“What are you doing?” Catra asks as she turns around to face her fellow Force Captain. “We’ve still got a long way to go until we’re back in the Fright Zone.”

“We’re not going to the Fright Zone,” Scorpia says, her expression set into something serious and devoid of the playfulness Catra has come to expect from her. “Not yet, anyway. There are bound to be other troops around, fleeing the battle like we are. We have to find as many as we can before we can turn back.” Catra can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Are you serious?!” she exclaims angrily, jumping off the skiff and moving towards where Scorpia is sitting, at the back. “We can’t waste any time at all! We need to make our report to Hordak, count our losses and prepare the next attack. They think that they’ve won, but it’s just a matter of time until we—”

“ _You_ ,” Scorpia says, cutting her off. “You keep saying ‘we’, but this was _your_ attack. So you can go make your report to Hordak on your own; I’m going to find whoever made it out of the battle without being captured by Bright Moon and take them home.” With that, she stops the skiff’s engine and jumps off, too. “Help me hide this thing, will you?” Catra stares at her as she uses her strong arms to push the skiff into the brush, pulling some twigs and branches off the surrounding trees and making them into a cover for the skiff.

“You’re crazy,” Catra eventually manages, after a while. “If we stay here, we’re going to die for sure.” She looks at the wood around them. It looks more threatening than it ever has.

“You’re the one who’s crazy here, Catra,” Scorpia says, smiling as she shakes her head lightly. “I mean, I’ve always known you weren’t a team player, but we have protocol for these kinds of situations.”

“What protocol?” Catra asks, skeptically. Scorpia’s grin widens, and Catra has to refrain from rolling with her eyes. “Never mind, let me guess—it was covered in Force Captain Orientation.” Scorpia’s burst of laughter is all the answer she needs.

“Right. You really should attend if you’re planning on staying a Force Captain,” she says, before turning around and making her way to the edge of the clearing, back into the woods the way they came from, her stinger swaying behind her as she walks. “Are you coming?”

Catra considers it, for a moment. Following protocol is what she’s supposed to do. But what she _needs_ to do is speak to Hordak. Not just about the lost battle, for which she’s definitely going to get chewed out, but also about the state of the Princess Alliance and the destruction done to the castle. Catra knows that they have another chance at this, if they strike fast and unexpectedly. But in order to do that, no time can be wasted.

“You go on ahead,” she tells Scorpia. “I’m going home.” With that, she stalks off into the forest, following the direction they had been going in.

 

Night is falling fast and Catra is starting to regret leaving the skiff and Scorpia. She could’ve done with losing either her partner or her vehicle, but both? It’s risky, especially in an environment as hostile as this. Though it’s probably just her exhaustion catching up to her, or the fact that she hasn’t eaten anything in hours, Catra can’t help but feel like the woods have it out for her. She’s tripped what feels like a thousand times already, and it feels like she keeps going in circles. If only that crazy first ones’ ruin would show up again. Or better yet; the edge of this godforsaken forest.

But Catra has no such luck as the sun sets and the shadows get so long they seem to swallow the Whispering Woods whole, a sign that it’s time for her to make camp and find a place to spend the night. She settles down beneath a tree that stands taller than the ones around it, and looks to be three times as thick as well. Catra has nothing to make a shelter with, or a fire, nothing to eat and nothing to drink, so she curls up beneath the tree and hopes she falls asleep fast. She guesses she’s lucky the forest is thoroughly thawed now and more or less back to its original state, and that the temperature is still high enough at night for her to lay still without shivering. It’s not much, but Catra has always known the importance of small victories. With that thought, she curls her tail around her body and closes her eyes.

 

Her empty stomach wakes Catra at sunrise. Catra growls softly as she sits up against the broad bark of the tree and lets her eyes glide over her surroundings. The early morning light is soft and bathes the Whispering Woods in a golden light. It reminds Catra of the golden glow that surrounds Adora when she turns into that annoyingly tall princess warrior, and her jaw clenches. All thoughts of hunger and exhaustion are forgotten and Catra resumes her trek through the forest.

It goes better than yesterday. Almost immediately after leaving her resting place, Catra finds a river. It’s narrow, but still broad enough that Catra can’t cross it without having to swim, which is something she hasn’t attempted to do ever since she and Adora were little kids, going through basic training in the Fright Zone. With a huff she crouches down, quickly drinking gulps of the dark but clear water. Then she stands up again and considers her options. The river is motionless here, in the heart of the forest, which means there is no way for Catra to know which way is up and which way is downstream. It’s yet another choice she’s forced to make; this river will lead her to the Fright Zone if she follows it in the right direction, or else it will lead her right back to Bright Moon, where the river emerges into the bay that surrounds the castle. She can also choose to cross the river here, risking death by drowning or, if she survives, getting lost even further. Catra pauses, looking down both sides of the river in an effort to see where it leads. She sees nothing but overhanging branches, so with a sigh, Catra goes right, praying that she’s chosen the right side.

 

Of course, absolutely nothing goes her way in this damp, dense, annoying ass forest. After hours of pulling and cutting branches away from her face, tripping over roots and getting scratched by bushes, Catra finally gets to a part of the river that is broader. The water actually flows here, so Catra observes the stream for a moment. As it turns out, she’s been going downstream all this time, which— “Shit,” Catra growls. Which means that she’ll end up at Bright Moon, right back where she started.

She has no choice but to push through, now. All the energy seems to have been seeped out of her body, thanks to not eating for two days straight and a restless night, so Catra figures her only chances to survive the Whispering Woods lay downstream; she’d either find Scorpia around there somewhere and be saved, or she’d be captured. Either way, she can’t go back now, or she’s surely going to collapse from the exhaustion. Annoyed at this outlook, at herself for not making the right choice and at this forest for ever trapping her in the first place, Catra moves on.

 

The sun is setting again when the trees start to thin out, leaving more space for Catra to move through, but also kindling a feeling of dread with every step that she takes. The light of the low hanging sun colors the trees every shade of yellow, orange and red imaginable. Catra supposes some might find it beautiful, but she has time nor energy to dwell on the aesthetics of the Whispering Woods. Her stomach is growling again, and Catra can only hope she’ll reach Scorpia or another Horde soldier by the time night falls. She steps through some bushes, expecting another clearing, but suddenly the trees stop and she’s back at the scene of the battle.

Horde tanks, robots and a few skiffs lay discarded in the water of the bay, all broken down and destroyed by the Rebellion’s magic. Catra huffs. A part of her wants to get over there and expect the state of some of the vehicles. She could use some of the knowledge Entrapta supplied her with to get one of them running again, and get out of here. Catra stops herself before she can take a step away from the tree line, however. There is no cover out there. She would have to wait until dark.

With a sigh, Catra slides down against a tree. She has no more strength to do anything, except stare at the castle as it’s bathed in the last rays of the sun. Once again, the glow reminds Catra of Adora. But unlike the last time she can’t help but think that, despite the damage they’d done to it, the castle looks beautiful like this.

 

When Catra wakes up, it’s because something cold is pressing against her forehead. She opens her eyes slowly, still disoriented from sleeping, and meets the dark-eyed gaze of the archer. He’s looking at her very seriously, like she’s public enemy number one, and Catra can’t help but snort.

“Don’t move!” the archer yells, pressing his arrow even further into Catra’s skin. He’s an idiot, Catra concludes, for using his long range weapon so closely in her vicinity. Quick as lightning, she slaps away his bow and thereby his arrow, and jumps to her feet.

“Or what?” she drawls with a smirk. She’s starving and her legs are trembling, but she can’t let this kid think he has any sort of advantage over her, so she makes herself stand tall and snarls for good measure.

“Or I’ll shoot!” the boy counters, his arms already holding his bow up and arrow cocked again, this time at some distance. Catra observes him more carefully now, and realizes where exactly she knows this archer from.

“Go ahead,” she says, shrugging and sitting back down against the tree. “You’re friends with Adora, right?” The boy freezes, but nods. “I’m sure she’ll be _so_ relieved to hear that you killed me, her former best friend,” Catra continues, all but spitting out the last three words. “She’ll be thrilled, honestly, that I’m no longer a threat to her.” The boy keeps looking at her silently, his expression troubled, and his arms flexing and releasing in a way Catra imagines is the result of a pretty wild inner debate. “Take your time,” she says, closing her eyes again. “I’ve got all day.”

“Argh, _fine_ ,” the boy says eventually. Catra opens one eye lazily to see him stuffing the arrow back into his quiver, and smiles. “Have it your way. If you care about Adora that much—” Suddenly, Catra’s wrists are pulled forward and bound together with a rope.

“Hey!” Catra protests fiercely. And not just because she’s being taken prisoner, but also: “I _don’t_ care about Adora!” It’s no use, even if Catra would’ve had the power to resist. The archer lifts her to her feet and places a hand on her lower back, guiding her towards a path that no doubt will lead them to the castle. Catra tries to move away from the touching hand, but the boy keeps the rope that binds her hands together short, so she doesn’t get too far.

“Take it easy,” the boy says, smiling in a way that’s probably meant to comfort her. Catra wonders if she looks as much like a rabid animal as she feels like one: crazed from hunger, her hair wild from days of neglect and dark circles below her eyes. She huffs and looks away.

“Fine. Take me prisoner. Whatever, it’s not like I care,” she mutters as they start making their way towards the castle.

“Sure you don’t,” the boy answers. “I’m Bow, by the way. You’re Catra, right?” Catra turns her head to face Bow, making sure her glare is appropriately received. It is, because Bow grimaces. “Sorry, but Adora’s told me and Glimmer some things about you.” The blood in Catra’s veins seems to turn to ice. She thinks of everything she and Adora shared with each other, in the comfort of each other’s company, shielded away from the world by a thin, worn-out blanket. The way it makes her feel weak is crippling.

“So what did she tell you?” Catra says, trying her hardest to sound aloof and uninterested. Bow shrugs.

“Just that the two of you grew up together in the Fright Zone, and how you guys used to be BFF’s.” That’s about as superficial as you can get about her complex relationship with Adora, and Catra lets out a relieved sigh. The path they’re walking on dips slightly, going through the low water of the bay instead of over it by means of a bridge, like _reasonable_ people would’ve built. Catra flinches as the water hits her bare feet, but trudges on.

“What’s BFF’s?”

 

Catra tries not to look forward too much, where the castle is looming. Her freedom is slowly but surely slipping away, so she tries to distract herself from that particular fact by making idle conversation with Bow. The weakness in her limbs and the hunger growing like a beast in her stomach seem to rid Catra of her already ineffective filter, so she ends up telling Bow about the Horde, and Adora’s time there. Bow, in turn, tells her about the other kingdoms he visited alongside Adora and Glimmer, in their effort to restore the Princess Alliance. There is no harm done, she tells herself. Bow’s information is nothing valuable, seeing as the Princess Alliance is already reformed and stronger than ever. Catra’s stories can’t mean much either. Not when they could’ve come from Adora’s mouth.

It must be around noon when they reach the castle; the sun is high in the sky, beating down on Catra so relentlessly that she fleetingly wishes she was back in the Whispering Woods. It’s going to happen soon. Bow will lead her into the castle, where guards will carry her away to the darkest cell Bright Moon has to offer, all under the saddened (or will they be joyful?) eyes of Adora and her new allies. But that doesn’t happen, because Bow walks right on by the stairs that will take them up to Bright Moon Castle’s main entrance and takes her to a place behind the castle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Catra asks, because she can’t help herself. “Isn’t the castle that way?” Bow starts smiling and chuckling awkwardly.

“…Maybe,” he says, before he withers under Catra’s glare and adds: “Okay, it is, but I’m not taking you there. Not yet, at least.” Catra stares at his eyes, trying to discern something from the way those dark brown irises are looking at her, but he seems sincere.

“You’re either stupid or crazy, but I can’t figure out which,” she says. Bow just starts smiling again.

“Nope! Just trying to be a good friend,” he answers. They’ve reached what looks to be the stables. There are no horses there, but the pungent smell of manure and oats fills the air inside the wooden structure.

“I’m not sure how happy Adora will be when she finds me here like some common barn cat, but yeah, she’s your friend, I guess.” Bow just chuckles as he ties the rope that’s holding her wrists together to an iron ring in one of the stables. He seems to make sure she has enough room to move around, but Catra forgoes paying attention in favor of plopping down on the hay that covers the ground in the stable.

“I didn’t mean Adora,” Bow says once he finishes the knot. He stands up straight, surveys their surroundings, then gives Catra a long look. “You look horrible,” he says. Catra manages a grimace.

“Charming,” she says, but she knows he’s right. She feels horrible, too.

“Stay here,” Bow says, already moving out of the stable and back the way they came from. “I’ll get you some food and water!” Catra wants to reply, say something witty like ‘you’re not exactly giving me a choice’, but he’s already gone. The rope she’s tied with looks and feels sturdy, and Catra wonders if her claws could cut through it before Bow comes back. She could try, but she’s feeling a little lightheaded and the fatigue she’d been accumulating over the past few days seems to come crashing down now that she’s sitting again. Just for a second, Catra thinks as she closes her eyes. Then she’d wake herself up again, and give Bow her scariest glare once he came back.

 

Catra really shouldn’t trust herself to wake up in time for things. It’s always been one of her weaker points; back at the Fright Zone, when they had been nothing more than cadets in training, Catra had been able to rely on Adora to wake her up. After she made Force Captain, it was usually Scorpia shaking her awake. Now, here, she doesn’t have anyone. Which explains why a loud yelp is what wakes Catra up.

There is still light falling through the cracks of wooden boards that make up the stable, so she can’t have been asleep for long. Still long enough for Bow to get in trouble, apparently, Catra thinks as she slowly blinks her eyes. In front of her stand Bow, the teleporting princess Glimmer, and Adora. Catra feels her knees going weak, which is ridiculous considering she’s still laying down, and she writes it off to being weakened.

“Hey Adora,” she says, her voice slightly raspy, and shoots Adora a grin. It’s not returned like it used to be and Catra feels the corners of her mouth pulling downwards again. She turns her gaze to Bow. “Not exactly a master of secrets, are you?” Bow at least has the decency to look embarrassed before Adora steps forwards, into Catra’s space, and grabs her by the collar.

“What are you doing here?” she demands. Catra silently wishes she was still asleep. “What do you want? Is this another ploy of you to distract me while the Horde attacks?” The irony in Adora’s words is too great, considering that what she’s saying is exactly what Catra probably would’ve done had she gone upstream, instead of down. Catra huffs out a laugh.

“I wish,” she answers, sincerely. “No, I just got lost in the woods like a dumbass, and then Bow found me.” Adora looks torn; like she believes her, but doesn’t want to. She doesn’t get a chance to say anything, however, because—

“I don’t trust her,” Glimmer announces. Catra eyes the princess, who is standing the furthest away from her, with her arms crossed and a fierce determination burning in her eyes. “We need to put her in jail, along with the other Horde soldiers, where she _belongs_.” It almost feels like a relief to Catra, to have someone reaffirm the line she has drawn in the sand, to reestablish the fact that they belong to different sides, no matter how much Adora and even Bow want to blur the division that exists between friend and foe.

“We can’t,” Bow protests, true to character. Catra closes her eyes again. She just wants this to be over, so she can cradle her hollow stomach and fall back asleep.

“Why not?” Glimmer asks incredulously.

“Look at her, Glimmer. She needs to eat. She needs a place to sleep.”

“What, you want to treat her like she’s our _guest_? After all the Horde has done—” Catra tunes them out. Maybe, if she tries hard enough, she can fall back asleep here, despite the argument between Bow and Glimmer. It’s starting to feel like she’s succeeding, but then a warm hand is placed on her shoulder. Catra opens her eyes and meets Adora’s.

“Guys,” Adora says, “Bow is right. I’ll watch her. She’ll be my responsibility.” Catra can feel her eyes grow wide. Out of all the things Adora could’ve said, she never expected… _this_. Compassion. It seems like every time they encounter each other, Adora is offering her a second chance. A way for them to be okay again, as if none of their actions have had any consequences. A scowl pulls the corners of Catra’s mouth down as Adora lifts her up. It’s not like she doesn’t _want_ things between them to go back to the way they were. It’s just that they _can’t_. Not after all the mistakes she’s made. Reluctantly, Catra lets herself be led towards the castle, feeling drained in more ways than one.

 

Adora’s room looks… unlike any of Adora’s old rooms have ever looked. Catra should know; she’s roomed with Adora ever since she can remember. The ceiling looks like it’s about three times as high as that of the sleeping barracks they used to bunk in, with big, leaf shaped windows letting light in. The crystals that hang from the ceiling reflect the sunlight falling in, making the room even brighter than it already is. There are plants in every other corner and in the middle of the room stands a bed, which could probably fit three people easily with how big it is, covered with several comfortable looking pillows. To the left of the bed are a vanity with a mirror and a bathtub. To the right, there is a desk. And, to Catra’s disbelief, a waterfall.

“Are you kidding me,” Catra murmurs as her eyes slide over every surface of this bright, gold and pink room. This isn’t just different from their room in the Fright Zone. It’s the exact opposite. Adora chuckles behind her and Catra can’t help how it’s making the hairs on her neck stand up. Another opposite, this time in the type of reaction that she’s come to expect from Adora.

“I know, it’s kind of… overwhelming, at first,” she says, as she walks past Catra and sits down on the bed, immediately sinking down in it. Catra, now no longer bound by rope, makes use of her newfound freedom and walks around the room, taking in every detail. The view from up here is amazing. She can see the mountains, the river as it extends into the bay, the Whispering Woods and even the looming darkness of the Fright Zone, far away behind it. “The first time I slept here, I destroyed the bed.” That makes Catra pause. She turns back to Adora.

“Night terrors again?” she asks, silently. It’s something that used to happen to Adora as a child. She didn’t think Adora still got them, but—

“No,” Adora answers, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Catra looks back to the window. “No, it was just— The bed was too fluffy, you know? When you’re used to…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to, because Catra knows how hard and sturdy their mattresses are in the Fright Zone.

“Yeah,” she answers. The hollow in the pit of her stomach has been aching ever since they left the stables, but Catra has ignored it until now. Hunger she can deal with later. Her dry mouth, though, she can deal with now. Catra avoids meeting Adora’s gaze as she walks over to the waterfall and angles her head beneath the stream, catching the water that falls down into her mouth. She drinks until her mouth doesn’t feel like a desert, then drinks some more for the amazing way it fills her stomach. Catra briefly wonders if this stream will dry up before she’s sated. Then a warm hand on her shoulder pulls her away from the water. “Hey, what’d you do that for?” Catra asks, directing an angry pout at Adora.

“When was the last time you ate something?” Adora asks, a concerned glance flitting between Catra’s face and her stomach. Catra shrugs.

“Probably on the day of the battle. Though I might’ve skipped breakfast, so… the day before?” Adora’s eyes don’t leave hers, now. Catra can’t look away either, and sees concern as well as anger swirling in those grey blue eyes.

“Catra. That was three days ago,” Adora says seriously. “You’re coming with me.” Then the hand that was on her shoulder finds its place in Catra’s, and she’s dragged along out of the room, into one of Bright Moon’s tall hallways.

 

Despite the fact that she technically is one, Catra doesn’t feel like a prisoner. It’s been a few days since Bow brought her to the castle and Adora forced her to take care of herself, and Catra is feeling as strong as ever. She’s been eating well and she’s been sleeping well (at the foot of Adora’s bed; some habits never seem to die), all under the protection of Adora, who keeps her shielded from Bright Moon’s angry looks and hurtful comments. In fact, she feels so removed from everything, hiding away with Adora in her room, that it’s almost like their childhood with Shadow Weaver and the Horde has never existed. Catra just can’t help but feel like the end is approaching. After all, nothing this peaceful can last.

She’s right. On her fourth day in the castle, a week after the battle of Bright Moon, she’s called to have an audience with Queen Angella.

“It’ll be fine!” Bow says as Catra finishes her breakfast on Adora’s bed. She eyes him questioningly. The archer attempts to shoot her a reassuring smile, but it just turns out crooked and doubtful.

“It _will_ be,” Adora stresses. She sits down next to Catra and lays a hand on her back, sliding it up underneath Catra’s wild mane, so it rests between her shoulder blades. “I’ll make sure of it. If they can give me a second chance, they can give you one, too.” Catra looks away from her friend, but relishes in the warmth of that hand.

“Even if she decides to throw me in jail,” Catra mutters, “I deserve it.” Bow and Adora don’t seem to know what to say to that, and a silence descends over them again.

“Still,” Adora says, eventually. “If you swear off the Horde and officially join the Rebellion, you have a chance. I mean— that is what you want to do, right?” Catra bites her lip.

Next to reminiscing, this is the one thing they’ve talked about the most during Catra’s recovery. Every evening, in the comfort of Adora’s too soft bed, whispered conversations about good and bad, about forgiveness, about mistakes, were held. Maybe, Catra thinks, she can be redeemed. Adora had forgiven her. Not just once, but every time; she’d kept offering Catra opportunities to turn her back to the Horde, to fight not because they are ordered to, but because the cause is something they both believe in.

Catra had never taken those opportunities before. They hadn’t even seemed like an option. Still Adora offered. And now Catra has seen what freedom really looks like, restricted by the walls of Adora’s room. How contradictory.

“Yes,” she answers, turning her head to meet Adora’s gaze. Her sea blue eyes look hopeful, for the first time in so long. Catra tries a smile. “Yeah, screw ‘em.” Bow cheers from somewhere near the door, but it sounds strangely muted, like the proximity of Adora’s face to her own creates a bubble around the two of them.

The bubble bursts when Glimmer teleports into the room, and says: “It’s time.”

 

The throne room looks as impressive as the rest of the castle, if not more so. Catra is craning her neck backwards to look at the ceiling of this hall, which is made entirely of glass, and which is held up by tall, golden arches, above panels of stained glass that turn the natural light that falls through them into shades of pink and purple. She’s so distracted by the extravagance of the room that it takes Adora elbowing her in the ribs to notice the Queen, seated on a golden throne, suspended in the open air at the far edge of the throne room. Catra swallows nervously, then walks forward and bows, kneeling on the edge of the extended walkway that leads to the throne. Though Adora, Glimmer and Bow had gone over appropriate court etiquette with her before, Catra is blacking out completely and she has no clue of what to do, or what to say. So, she stays like that; sitting on one knee, bowing silently.

“Catra,” a voice that radiates with authority says, “rise.” Catra does, but she keeps her head down and stares at her feet. The claws on her toes scratch against the smooth surface of the throne room floor quietly. “You’ve come to tell me something,” the voice continues, urging her on. Right. There is nothing to lose for her here, anyway, Catra thinks as she straightens her back and lifts up her gaze. Seated on the throne is Queen Angella, the same purple and pink hair that Glimmer has swaying softly in the wind, regarding her calmly.

“Yes,” Catra starts, clasping her hands behind her back tightly in order to keep them from fidgeting. “As you know, I used to be a Horde soldier. Like Adora.” A glance backward shows Adora’s hopeful eyes, the determined set of her mouth. It’s so familiar that something within Catra unwinds, and her nerves dissipate somewhat. “I’ve done a lot of things wrong,” Catra continues, turning back to the Queen, “and I want to do whatever I can to set the record straight. The Horde has been horrible; not just to your people, but to their own, as well.” Trust me, Catra wants to say; I _know_. “I want to help you put a stop to that. So I, uh, want to join the Rebellion.” She bows her head again as the words leave her mouth. “If you’ll have me, your Majesty.” A silence descends over the room, everyone no doubt eager to see whether Queen Angella will accept this Horde traitor, or put her in jail. Catra doesn’t care. She keeps looking at her toes, and the tiny scratch marks her claws make.

“You would pledge to stand with us, opposing those you once served?” Queen Angella asks then. This thing, which has never really seemed more than a possibility to Catra, is suddenly sounding a lot like reality. She swallows, and nods.

“Yes.”

“Catra,” the Queen says. Catra steels herself for whatever is to come. “Please kneel.” She obeys, though slightly shakily. “Glimmer,” the Queen continues, “will you take responsibility for her, like you have done for Adora?” Catra freezes. It is no secret between them that she gets along a lot better with Adora and Bow than she does with Glimmer, but… She just takes a while to warm up to people. Adora knows that. Besides, she means something to Adora, and Glimmer knows _that_ , so—

“Yes,” Glimmer says, breaking Catra out of her spiraling thoughts. Catra turns her head slightly, keeping it bowed down but glancing over to the princess nonetheless. Glimmer catches her eye, and gives her the tiniest of smiles. A relieved sigh escapes Catra’s mouth as she turns back to the Queen.

“Very well,” the Queen responds. “Catra, you may rise.” It’s almost over, Catra thinks as she stands back up with her back straight and what she hopes is a confident expression on her face. The Queen observes her for a second, then smiles. Though the official words haven’t been spoken yet, Catra can feel relief pouring through her. “The Rebellion accepts your allegiance, Catra,” the Queen says. “You will be a valuable ally to us.” She didn’t care about the outcome of today, Catra had told herself. Still, a relieved smile settles on her face as she thanks the Queen and turns to her newfound friends. Adora’s arms are around her in an instant, and Bow is petting her hair.

“I knew you would do great,” Adora whispers in her ear, the closeness of which is making Catra blush profusely. She swats away Bow’s arm, but doesn’t do anything to break Adora’s embrace.

“Well, yeah,” Catra answers with a shaky grin. “I’m amazing. Who _wouldn’t_ want to have me on their side?”

 

The sun is setting over Bright Moon and Catra revels in the warmth of those last rays. She’s perched high up on the top of the throne room, the highest place in the castle. The way the wind buffets against her here reminds her of her favorite high place in the Fright Zone. She’ll probably never see that crappy metal slab again, high above the metal structures that make up the Horde’s territory, even above the dark clouds that continually come down on the Fright Zone. Sitting on that creaky metal railing, watching the sun turn from orange into a bloody red before it set… She could never do that again.

A clanging noise behind her shakes Catra from her reverie. She glances over her shoulder and smirks as she sees a grappling hook, and who it belongs to.

“Hey, Adora,” she drawls. Adora returns her grin.

“Thought I’d find you here,” she says, as she makes her way to the edge, where Catra is sitting, and makes herself comfortable. “It takes you back, doesn’t it?” Catra shrugs.

“A little,” she answers, enjoying the way Adora’s bare arm feels as it brushes against her furry one. “But also not really. Everything is different, now.” She meets Adora’s gaze.

“I know what you mean,” her friend answers. Catra’s hands are clasped together in her lap, a little afraid of what they might do if she doesn’t keep them there. As it turns out, her fears are ungrounded. Her hands stay entirely still as Adora pries them apart, and slides her own hand between Catra’s palms. Catra’s eyes stray from their joined hands, back to Adora’s face, and the expression she sees there makes her grow still. The way Adora is looking at her can only be described as lovingly, like everything is the way it’s supposed to be. Catra can understand that perfectly.

“I don’t ever want to go back,” she whispers against the wind. She doesn’t have to explain to Adora that she means the Horde and the Fright Zone, and the way they fell apart after Adora left. A soft hand squeezes one of her own.

“I know,” Adora answers. “Me neither. And we never have to—Glimmer, Bow, all the princesses… They’ll make sure of it.” Catra smiles at the absurdity of that sentence. Just a week ago, the princesses were her enemies. Just a month ago, they were Adora’s enemies, too. And now they’re here, sitting on the castle of the Rebellion, holding hands as the sun starts to disappear behind the Whispering Woods.

“You know,” Catra starts, thinking of her time in that forest, “I’m glad I got lost in the Whispering Woods. Who knows what would’ve happened if I made it back to the Fright Zone.” Adora grimaces at that, and Catra feels an instant regret at even bringing it up.

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Adora says, looking down at their hands in Catra’s lap. “I mean, fighting with you is usually fun, but...” Catra smirks.

“But not when it’s for real, and I’m making you lose?” Adora huffs indignantly, looking so offended that Catra can’t help but burst into giggles.

“You’re incorrigible,” Adora mutters, a smile emerging on her face as well.

“Well, you love me for it,” Catra responds. They’re both grinning wider than either of them has done in a long time and that feeling of unbridled joy, combined with the wind in her hair, makes Catra feels strangely weightless. Her eyes find Adora’s and from that point on she can’t look away. Neither can Adora, apparently, because she keeps coming closer, staring at Catra, her eyes moving from her eyes to her lips, and back up again.

Maybe this was always meant to happen, Catra thinks fleetingly as her lips meet Adora’s. Maybe that’s why it feels so natural to lean in and kiss Adora, to feel her move against her mouth, to move her hand along Adora’s back and pull her in closer. The kiss is quickly followed up with a series of smaller ones, the next kiss initiated as soon as the previous one ends, because Catra is insatiable. Her hands move up to Adora’s face, then back again, roaming across her neck, down her back (where Catra vows to place more kisses, later), and down her sides.

After some time, when the wind turns cold in the absence of the sun, they break apart.

“Maybe we should, uh, continue this inside,” Adora says breathlessly, and Catra revels in the knowledge that _she’s_ the one who caused that.

“Oh, definitely,” she murmurs against Adora’s lips. She’s probably purring, but Catra can’t find it in herself to care. They make their way down from the roof and, with their hands clasped together the entire time, find their way back to Adora’s room.

Maybe this is the way it was always meant to be, Catra wonders. Cuddled up with Adora, in a bed made of clouds, surrounded by nothing more than the warmth of a loving embrace. Yes, this is definitely the way it was always meant to be. Smiling, unburdened, Catra closes her eyes.


End file.
